


if james fleamont potter gives you a jug of punch, ask before ye drink

by gothzabini (girl412)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Getting Together, Hijinks & Shenanigans, M/M, Marauders' Era, Questionable Plot, R/S 24 Hour Challenge, Recreational Drug Use, Turnips, abusive mothers, but it is mentiond, i don't know how to tag this im sorry, in this house we HATE walburga black., thats a trigger warning i guess. it's not too explicit or in detail, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-08-14 09:24:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16489943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girl412/pseuds/gothzabini
Summary: In which Remus and Sirius skive off Bonfire Night. or - Sirius is unpredictable, Remus is always paying attention, James is a good friend and Peter really likes bread.Also: nothing beats enchanted turnips, wouldn't you say so?





	if james fleamont potter gives you a jug of punch, ask before ye drink

**Author's Note:**

> i don't know what this is. 2 hours of sleeplessness, emo music & writing whatever came to mind. hope it makes sense, but i guess it's okay if it doesn't - i was going for general incoherence here, a little.
> 
> edit: when i posted this at first i somehow forgot to put it in the r/s 24hr challenge discord collection, so im doing that now, literally months later. whoops.

This isn’t like the last time they got high. That’s the only thing Remus is sure of as he curls up around Sirius in the abandoned greenhouse. Sirius smells like cigarette smoke and treacle, no doubt from a hasty visit to the kitchens with James. This isn’t their usual response to festivities either but ever since becoming Padfoot, Sirius has displayed a certain aversion to firecrackers. Remus has noticed. There isn’t much Remus doesn’t notice about Sirius.

“Got a letter from home,” Sirius says, taking a small inhale of the joint Remus rolled for him. “Set it on fire, but not before it exploded. I think Walburga anticipated that, don’t you?” 

“Show me,” Remus insists, certain that Sirius is hurt somehow. His tone is nonchalant enough, but that has never meant anything with Sirius. The night he ran away from home, Sirius had laughed uncontrollably for fifteen minutes when James let him into his house at three in the morning. For someone who’s sincere enough to not hide anything, Sirius sure is one hell of a mystery.

“Not as bad as cigarette burns,” Sirius says, smiling lazily as if he’s talking about the weather. He hands Remus the cigarette, and then rolls his right sleeve up. Remus stares at the bandages, and then stares back at Sirius. 

“I’ve heard that scars make the women go all weak-kneed,” Sirius jokes. 

“Sirius, this isn’t funny,” Remus says, tracing the edges of the bandage. “She’s got no right, sending you something like this.” 

“You should’ve seen it explode though,” Sirius says. “It was huge, Moony. I think explosions run in the family, along with insanity.” 

“Don’t say that,” Remus says, now distressed. “You’re _nothing_ like them.” 

“Is that so,” Sirius says, but it’s not worded as a question. Remus looks at the look in Sirius’s eyes and knows, somehow, that Sirius is thinking of the incident with Snape and the Willow. He sighs wearily. 

“Padfoot, let bygones be bygones. I forgave you for that.” 

“You shouldn’t have,” Sirius says. 

Remus blinks. He doesn’t know what to do with this form of Sirius – brooding, desolate Sirius, still haunted by the ghosts of Grimmauld place. 

“I’ll get James,” he says, and he proceeds to do exactly that. 

*** 

Never let it be said that James Fleamont Potter comes to aid his comrades empty-handed. James, when he walks in, comes with a jug full of punch that is a colour that does not look like punch in the slightest, as well as a sack full of turnips. 

“Lily was telling me about carved turnips,” James says, handing Sirius the sack, Remus the jug, and proceeding to pull various knives out of his pockets. 

“Prongs,” Remus says, sceptical.  Sirius is ignoring them both, in favour of staring at his nails with a detached look on his face.

“Yes, Moony?” 

“What the fuck?” 

James smiles. “Merely a part of my master plan, Remus. Now, let us discuss!” With a dramatic flick of his wrist, he summons a brochure that Remus is sure he stole from a Muggle Museum. “Sirius Orion Black, what do you know of Guy Fawkes’ Day?” 

“‘Tis voodoo,” Sirius says. He gives both James and Remus inquisitive looks. 

“It was a gunpowder treason plot gone wrong,” Remus says quietly. “And there’s a lot of setting fire to things. Usually a Muggle tradition, you know, but a jovial one nonetheless.”

“Jovial?” Sirius looks confused. “Isn’t this, you know, part of Halloween week? That’s when the border between light magic and dark magic is the thinnest.” 

“Exactly,” James agrees. “Walburga and Orion might have been all about dark magic, Sirius, but here we try and get the light from the dark. Things are never all bad, you know?” 

Sirius gives Remus a look. It’s a look that says _this is a rich boy with a family who loves him. What does he know about suffering?_  Remus wants to tell Sirius to knock it off, but he thinks that given everything that’s going on, Sirius is entitled to acting like an arse for now. 

“Anyhow! Padfoot, I know you’re feeling more canine than ever, so no fireworks for us, but I got tons of this punch, and we could carve these turnips and enchant them, yeah?” James smirks. 

“That’s timid, for us,” Sirius says, but he takes a sip of the punch anyway, before giving Remus a small, sleepy smile.  “I wish my mother were dead.” 

“Er, James,” Remus begins. “What’s in this punch?” 

“I dunno,” James says. He is beginning to look concerned. “Veritaserum, possibly, along with Felix Felicis.” 

“Don’t think there’s much luck to be had there,” Remus points out, as Sirius begins to whistle to his boots, which to Remus’s alarm, are whistling back. “James, we weren’t sober when you walked in. What effects will this punch have, given that?” 

“Merlin,” James says, looking faint. “I think they work as sedatives?” 

“Mate,” Sirius says solemnly, taking one of James’s hands in his, “you smell like burning wood.” 

“Uh, thanks,” James says, exchanging a worried glance with Remus. “Padfoot, let’s go to the dorms, yeah?” 

“Sleep is for the weak,” Sirius protests. “At least let me kiss my Moony first.” 

“Uh, once we get to the dorm, Pads,” Remus says, wrapping an arm around Sirius, who lets Remus lead him without any objection. James cusses under his breath. 

James and Remus tuck Sirius in Remus’s bed, as Sirius’s bed is one of the upper bunks, and the boy is in no state to climb those steps. Sirius is out in approximately fifteen seconds, though not before he says something in French, which neither of them catch. 

“Well, that was eventful,” Remus says, and James laughs. 

“Want to help me carve some turnips?” James asks.

Remus smirks. “I thought you’d never ask.”

*** 

“And then, the turnip that looked like Snape started belting out Fleamont’s hair commercial radio advertisement,” Peter tells Sirius. “It’s been levitating behind Malfoy for at least three hours now, and it makes snide comments every time he does or says something. Dunno how they got it to do that, but it’s really something, isn’t it?” 

“Remus’s brain,” Sirius agrees. “I don’t know what he envies me and James for, frankly. He’s more devious than both of us put together.” 

Peter chooses to eat a croissant rather than respond. Sirius suspects he’s watching the scene unfold across them; the scene they’ve all watched a million times – James asking Lily out, Lily refusing and doing something dramatic. The only difference this time is that Remus is standing there, acting as a buffer between James and Lily. At one point, Lily picks up a pitcher of pumpkin juice, clearly ready to douse James, but Remus puts a hand on her arm and she sheepishly puts the pitcher back on the table.

“Mate,” Peter says, between bites of his breakfast bread, “you’re right. He just negotiated with Evans. If you or James tried that, you’d be dead.” 

Sirius is silent for five minutes, wondering how to change the topic, before he gives up and dives straight in. 

“Pete, did anything else happen last night?”

“What do you mean, anything else?” 

“Between me and Remus. He gave me a really strange look today.” Sirius shrugs, unsure what else to say.

“You spent some time with him and James in the Greenhouse, I think,” Peter says. “I’m not the right person to ask. Ask Prongs or Moony, maybe.” 

“Hm,” Sirius says, ignoring the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. “Guess I’ll do that.” 

***

“Remus,” Sirius says. 

Remus looks up from his Defence homework, knowing that Sirius never called him that unless it was urgent.

“Did something happen last night?” 

Remus doesn’t know how to answer that question, but the look on Sirius’s face is almost desperate. He looks frantic, confused and possibly even a little afraid.

“We got high, you got drunk, you passed out,” Remus answers. “You weren’t at your cheeriest.” 

“I’m sorry,” Sirius says, clearly more worried than reassured. “I don’t remember this, but I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” 

“You didn’t,” Remus says, and hopes that Sirius can see that he’s being sincere. “You _didn’t._ ” 

He reaches out, wraps his arms around Sirius, and pulls him closer, even as he remains seated. Sirius exhales, melting into the embrace, putting his chin on the top of Remus’s head. 

“I feel sort of hollow,” he confesses.

“You confessed that you wished your mother was dead,” Remus admits.

“Oh,” Sirius says. He doesn’t sound shocked, or even particularly bothered. “How blunt of me.” 

They’re both silent for a moment, before Sirius sighs. “She has it coming,” he says. “Anyone who thinks it’s acceptable to Crucio a four year old has it coming.” 

Remus massages circles into Sirius’s back. 

“Anything else I said that I shouldn’t have said?” Sirius asks cheerfully. 

“You, uh, called me your Moony,” Remus says, because he knows that if he doesn’t tell Sirius, James will.  “I think you wanted to snog me.” 

Sirius chokes. 

“Right,” he says.

*** 

If Sirius was being honest, he’d admit that his vague memories felt oddly erotic. Remus’s fingers, rolling joints. The way his breath had felt warm against his neck when he was whispering. The coldness of the greenhouse floor, the warmth of Remus’s hands. Remus’s laughter, soft but somehow vibrant and alive. Remus’s arms, bracketing him. Hands that were not his, pulling his boots off. Helping him into bed. Soft voices, saying gentle things. Things that sounded a little like, _wonder what’s wrong with Sirius._ Things like _we love him anyway_. 

Maybe he’d fallen asleep then, to dream of assassination and gunpowder and Remus kissing him under an orange sky, kissing him until his knees gave way and he crumpled against Remus, Remus who caught him and forgave him for everything and knew how fucked up his family was but stayed all the same. 

“So I didn’t really kiss you?” Sirius murmurs, into Remus’s hair.

“Did you want to?” Remus asks quietly. 

Sirius sits across Remus, needing to see his face.

“Yeah,” Sirius says, his voice sounding hoarse even to his own ears. “Fuck, Moony, I thought you knew that.” 

Remus stares at him for a minute, as if seeing him for the first time.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” he asks. 

Sirius smirks. “Waiting for you to make the first move.” 

“Honestly Padfoot, I can’t keep throwing sticks for you to fetch. You have to make the first  move sometimes,” Remus begins, his tone lighthearted but the look in his eyes still perplexed. Sirius can see Remus second guess himself, and he can’t stand to see it, so he leans forward and kisses him, giving Remus time to move away if he wants to.

Remus does not move away. On the contrary, once the kiss has started, he pulls him closer. 

“Can’t believe you had to get drunk on James’s punch to do that,” Remus says when they finally pull apart. 

“Shut up,” Sirius says, laughing. 

Remus is giving him that stupidly fond look though, the look that says he’s endearing. It’s a look that is usually reserved for Padfoot’s more stupid antics, such as the time he’d been too busy chasing his own tail to realise that he’d walked through a magical patch of chameleonite flowers. Sirius in human form had pink hair for three weeks. 

Sirius thinks they’re going to be alright.

*** 

“Is that why Dumbledore’s phoenix is named Fawkes?” Sirius asks finally.

Remus smiles into his neck. “Maybe. Thinking of bonfire night _now_?”

“Nah,” Sirius says.

“Assassination attempt against a James,” Remus says thoughtfully. “Do you think that’s a sign?” 

“I don’t fucking see it,” Sirius says, staring disgustedly into his china teacup. “We should have dropped Divs, don’t see why we didn’t.” 

“We didn’t drop Divs because it’s the only class on which we get full marks on assignments we write when we’re stoned,” Remus points out.

“Remus Lupin, this is why I love you,” Sirius says.

“Is it really? I had no idea you were that easy.” 

“I think we’re destined to be together,” Sirius says dramatically. “Until death do us part.” 

Professor Trelawney hums as she passes them. “Excellent, Mr Black,” she says. 

Remus looks at Sirius; his ridiculous, sometimes- a-dog-sometimes-a-boy best friend. His possible love interest. No, who is he kidding –  this is it, he knows that.

“She’s not wrong,” Remus murmurs. “That was rather excellent.”

Sirius smiles at him, and Remus smiles back. 

Maybe they can’t predict the future, but they can try. In the end, it must all be worth something.

“I do love you, you stupid berk.” 

“Well, you’ve got a funny way of showing it! It’s mutual, though.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.”

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed! hmu @ screamingforsirius / gothzabini ! love y'all  
> shout out to the wolfstar discord for dealing with me as a zombie ahaha 


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